Alex did not remain long in the cabin of the _Rambler_ after Clay’s
departure. His two chums were seated on the prow of the boat, and the
lights were out, so he had little difficulty in dropping unobserved into
the water. Before leaving the cabin, he had drawn on an old suit of
clothes used for just such purposes, so he did not mind getting wet.
Once in the water, he struck out for the south arm of the island. It was
his idea that the coal tow and the saloon boat would hover about that
spot for some little time. Those who had whiskey to sell would be sure
to keep in the company of the tow, and those who had the whiskey thirst
would be pretty apt to rush on board the steamer for the purpose of
satisfying it.
The boy, of course, did not understand that the tug in charge of the
barges could not have held them against the push of the current in any
event. His idea that the tow and the saloon boat would keep company,
however, was the correct one.
Almost as soon as his feet came in contact with the sloping shore of the
south arm, he heard shouts of laughter coming across the wooded stretch
of land between the lagoon and the main channel of the river. Proceeding
on as rapidly as was possible in the darkness, he soon came to a
position from which he could see the lights of the steamer. She was
standing perfectly still some distance down the stream from the mouth of
the lagoon, and the tug and barges seemed to have halted, too.
Directly he saw lights flashing along the barges and heard exclamations
of anger and dismay from the front ranks. Then he saw what had taken
place. The crew of the tow had paid too much attention to whiskey and
too little to navigation.
The front line had grounded at a bend just below, and the others were
piling against them. Even with his limited knowledge of river work, the
boy saw that it would be hours before the barges could be towed off the
bar. A good many of the men supposed to be in charge of the tow were
still drinking on board the saloon boat.
“That’s always the way with whiskey,” Alex said. “It jumps into the
places where it can make the most trouble. “If I ever take a drink of
the stuff, I hope I’ll get five years for every drop I swallow. A person
who drinks whiskey is no good, anyway, and might as well be in prison as
anywhere else.”
There was now a great commotion on board the steamer, and the boy saw
that those in charge of the tow were forcing their unruly employes back
to their duty. Directly the steamer anchored a short distance up the
river. The barges which were grounded were detached from the main tow,
and the whole mass went swinging down the river again, followed by
shouts of laughter from the steamer.
“Now,” mused the boy, “I wonder whether that pirate boat will keep on
after the tow in order to get what little money those poor fools have
left, or whether it will be kept here in the hope of annexing the
_Rambler_?”
The question was answered in a moment, for the steamer edged in close to
the shore and threw out an anchor.
“That’s fine!” Alex muttered. “Now they’ll be running over this island
to find the _Rambler_, caught like a rat in a trap. I’m glad they
haven’t got sense enough to run up and block the lagoon!”
The lights of the steamer made a fair illumination on the bank where
Alex lay, and directly he saw a boat put out and head for the very
thicket which concealed him. He crept softly back toward the interior
and waited for developments. When the boat touched the shore two men
stepped out and pressed through the thicket toward the lagoon.
“This is foolishness,” the boy heard one of the men say. “I tell you,
Bostock,” he went on, “that the motor boat made the north passage and
went on down the river while we were fooling with that tow crowd.”
“I don’t believe it, Davis,” was the reply. “They just doused their
lights and dropped into the lagoon. I was watching the river and no
lights showed below the island.”
“Well,” Davis said, “we can soon find out. It isn’t far from here to the
lagoon, though it’s mighty unpleasant traveling in the night time. You
may be right, but I don’t believe it.”
The two men passed within six feet of where Alex lay, concealed, and as
soon as the thicket closed behind them, he crept along in their wake. As
the men made considerable noise themselves, he figured that they would
not be likely to hear any racket he might make.
In fifteen minutes the three reached the highest point on the island,
from which, in daylight, both the main channel of the river and the
lagoon might be seen. Just at the moment they came within sight of the
inner channel the lights flared out on the _Rambler_.
Alex restrained an exclamation of disgust with great difficulty.
“The confounded idiots!” he said under his breath. “To go and light
those lamps at this time! Why, we crawled in there to hide!”
“There!” the boy heard the man who had been called Bostock exclaim, “I
told you the motor boat had made for the lagoon!”
“Well, you were right,” was the reply.
“Now, all we’ve got to do,” Bostock went on, “is to run the steamer up
to the mouth of the lagoon and nail these boys in good and tight.”
“That’s right,” the other answered, “and once we get hold of that motor
boat there isn’t a thing we can’t do on this river. I’ve heard of the
exploits of those boys all the way down from Pittsburg. That boat is
built with the motors of a sea-going tug, and can outrun anything on the
river. Besides that, unless I am greatly mistaken, the cabin and the
deck under the gunwales are bullet-proof.”
“Right you are!” Bostock answered. “There isn’t a thing we can’t do
after we get hold of that boat, but what are we going to do with the
boys?”
“We’ll have to make some arrangements for keeping them out of the way,”
Davis suggested. “If they put up a fight, well, the lagoon is a pretty
good place to leave them.”
“Now, then,” mused Alex, “the thing for me to do is to shoot both of
those murderers, and so get the _Rambler_ out of this scrape!”
Without any intention of following his own advice, the boy thrust his
hand into his pistol pocket and found it empty.
“Anyway,” he muttered, “it wouldn’t have been any good after swimming
over here. It seems as if I never did have a gun when I wanted one.”
The boy struck off to the east, his idea being to gain a position a
short distance above the _Rambler_ and then swim aboard. He had
proceeded but a few yards when a rustling in the bushes just ahead
attracted his attention. The rustling was soon followed by a low growl,
and directly the damp muzzle of the bulldog was thrust into the boy’s
face.
“So you’ve gone and run away, too, have you Captain Joe?” demanded Alex.
“I’ve a great mind to send you out to eat up two pirates.”
It was too dark to see the bulldog distinctly, but Alex knew that he was
accepting the commission joyfully.
“I don’t think it will do any good, doggie,” the boy finally whispered.
“Those pirates are about like skunks—you kill one and half a dozen more
come to the funeral. If those fellows don’t get back to their steamer
directly, there’ll be a mob of their companions on this island before
daylight. All we can do now is to get to the _Rambler_ and head her out
of this lagoon before the steamer gets to the entrance.”
With this object in mind, the boy and dog made their way swiftly through
the thicket, paying little attention to the noise they made. Far in the
rear they heard the river pirates calling out to them, but paid no
attention. When Alex reached the shore of the lagoon he was at a loss
which way to turn. There was now no illumination to show the location of
the _Rambler_.
“What’s your notion now, Captain Joe?” he asked of the dog. “If you can
tell me which way to turn to find that motor boat, I’ll give you a chunk
of catfish as big as your head when we get aboard.”
Thus urged and bribed, the dog lost no time in turning to the west.
“I think you’re wrong, Captain Joe!” Alex urged.
The bulldog insisted that he was right, and as the boy had no good
grounds upon which to dispute his judgment, he followed along after him.
It was by no means good walking along the bank, for in many places trees
and shrubs had been undermined during high water, and trunks and masses
of smaller growth often stretched out into the water.
“I tell you what it is, Captain Joe,” Alex said as they went along. “If
you dare to take me back where those saloon pirates are, I’ll advise
Teddy to take a bite out of your ear when we get aboard the _Rambler_
again, if we ever do.”
Captain Joe’s only reply was to seize Alex by one trousers’ leg and
hustle him along over a mass of boughs which seemed to the boy to be
several miles high.
At last, after a great deal of this climbing, Joe stopped on the bank of
the lagoon and pointed with his nose out over the water. The two of them
must have made considerable racket scrambling along the beach, for just
as Joe stopped a soft whistle came out of the darkness.
“Captain Joe,” whispered Alex, patting the dog on the head, “you’re the
candy kid! That’s Clay, without the shadow of a doubt. Now you tell him
that we want to come aboard.”
As if understanding every word spoken to him by the lad, the dog fawned
about for a moment and then uttered a short, sharp bark.
“Come aboard, you runaway!” a voice whispered from the boat.
“Don’t you think we won’t! exclaimed Alex. “Can’t you show a light just
for a minute? It’s so dark I wouldn’t know the river was wet if I didn’t
feel it.”
A flashlight was turned on for just an instant and then shut off.
Captain Joe greeted the finger of light with a joyous bark and plunged
into the lagoon. Alex was about to follow his example in the matter of
taking to the water when he felt himself seized by the collar and drawn
back. It was evident that the two had made altogether too much noise,
and had been followed by the men from the steamer.
“Keep your mouth closed now!” whispered one of the men in Alex’s ear.
“Ram your gun down his throat if he doesn’t!” another voice said.
Alex knew that the purpose of the pirates was to prevent his warning his
companions of the presence of the steamer and its crew in that vicinity.
He knew, too, that unless he could notify those on board the _Rambler_
of the intentions of the pirates, their retreat from the lagoon would
soon be shut off.
He knew, too, that he was taking great chances in making the situation
understood. Still, he decided to risk his own life in order to warn his
friends. With the pirate holding him by the collar, he sprang forward
and cried at the top of his voice:
“Captain Joe! Captain Joe!”
Something in the tone of the boy’s voice told the dog as well as those
on board the motor boat that Alex was in deadly peril. It was not his
habit to ask for assistance unless it was very badly needed.
Answering the indefinite but well-understood appeal, the dog turned back
to the shore, unseen but plainly heard in the disturbed waters.
One of the men struck fiercely at his head with the butt of a gun as he
swept past him. The man who had hold of the boy fired a shot at the dim
rushing figure. The bullet went wide of its mark.
The next instant the bulldog had a set of very capable teeth clamped
about the throat of the outlaw. The man struggled and gurgled horribly
as the impact of the dog’s body threw him back, releasing Alex from his
grasp. The boy sprang away and shouted:
“Turn on the lights, boys, turn on the lights!” In a second the powerful
searchlight on the prow of the _Rambler_ was turned on the spot from
which the call had proceeded. It revealed one of the men lying helpless
on the ground, writhing under the dog’s jaws and the other disappearing
in a thicket.
Alex picked up the outlaw’s revolver, which had fallen to the ground,
and called the dog away. He was stooping over the prostrate figure to
ascertain, if possible, the extent of the injuries inflicted by the dog
when a shot came from a tangle a short distance away.
“Come on, Captain Joe!” the boy shouted. “Let him alone.”
Leaving the two outlaws on the bank, one-half unconscious, the other
raging helplessly in the jungle, the boy and the dog sprang into the
lagoon. As they did so another harmless shot came from the interior, and
then the lights on the _Rambler_ were switched off.
Several spiteful shots were now fired toward the boat, but the two
swimmers were, of course, out of sight of the outlaws, so the bullets
were not directed at them.
In a very brief space of time, Alex and Captain Joe were hauled on deck,
where they lay dripping and panting for an instant before a word was
spoken. The lights were still out.
“You’re a beautiful pair!” Jule whispered, then. “We were just talking
about you two getting into a scrape before we got out of the lagoon.”
“Never mind the scrape!” Alex panted, still breathing hard. “Put on full
power and steam up out of the lagoon. That whiskey boat is going up to
block the way!”
Without waiting for further information on the subject, Clay sprang to
the motors and the _Rambler_ was soon making her way upstream.
When they came to a low-lying portion of the south arm, they saw the
lights of the steamer across the point, trying to head them off.